Don't Touch Me.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

Skye is 16 but she isn't your usual teen, she has an unusual hobby. Ridding the world of men, she thinks, it could do better without, by pretending she's someone she's not, or, more accurately, a different age.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Don't Touch Me.

Submitted: August 09, 2011

Reads: 162

Comments: 2

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Submitted: August 09, 2011




I made an exasperated sound. I never expected it would be so hard to get blood off of my shirt. Now, no matter what I use, including fairy washing up liquid, the stain will NOT COME OUT!

I sighed and put the top aside. There’s no use in trying to get it out. I’d have to burn it but somewhere far from the house, to avoid suspicion. No, the last thing I need is for the police to come knocking on my door.

I got up and made my way round the kitchen table and almost skidded on a finger I had missed when clearing up the body.

“Oops. Almost missed you. You’d be a nice little piece of evidence, if they manage to catch me wont you?” I said to the detached finger which belonged to the arm that I could see popping out of the top of the black bin bag I had put on the table. I put the finger into the bag and dragged the whole thing off the table. I then put another bag over the top so that no-one could see what was inside it. This way I could avoid unnecessary attention on the drive over to the lake.

The drive was uneventful, with hardly any traffic. Once at the lake I made sure that there was no-one fishing.

This part of the forest isn’t very well known so it is usually safe but I do occasionally encounter the odd fisherman and they usually aren’t too curious to why I’m there and if they are they’re not, usually, alive long enough to tell anyone about me.

After ensuring that I am on my own I open the boot to my car and heave the bag out of it. I am relieved that this time the bag hadn’t spilt, like it had the last time. It had been really hard to clean up and even then it had left a stain, so I had had to put new carpeting down in it. Even if it didn’t match the rest of the car it was less conspicuous than having a huge blood stain that went right over the boot and onto the back seats. Even the windows had been splattered, though that hadn’t been too hard to clean.

It reminded me of the first man I had rid the world of.

I didn’t know his last name but everyone called him as Crazy James. One night I’m on my way home from the sushi bar where I work when he comes round the corner. He walks toward me and looks at me with curious look on his face.

“Ain’ i’ a bit late for you ta be out, girly?” he slurred.

I winced at the heavy smell of alcohol on his breath. He looked totally wasted and had this really odd look on his face, since then a look that I have become far too familiar with.

“Sorry, James but I really don’t have time to talk to you.” I said as I tried to make my way around him.

However, he stepped in front of me and then took another towards me.

“Wait where you goin’, don’ you wanna talk ta me?”

I tried not to look too annoyed.

“I would talk but, as I said, I don’t have time. I have to get home.”

“Nah hang on a sec, girly, why should I believe you tha’ i’s not abou’ not wan’ing ta talk ta me? Tha’ way I see i’ is you jus’ wanna get away from me! I havn’ even done anythin’ to ya!”

I could see he was getting really quite angry and violent, so I tried to calm him and explain.

“I really would like to talk to you James but my parents are waiting for me to come home so we can eat together.”

“Ah, your parents, eh? Well ain’ tha’ nice for ya! Problem is I don’ think you’ll be makin’ it home tonight.”

I could feel my eyes growing wider. Inside my head I was screaming, “Run, oh, for god’s sake, RUN!” But my legs just wouldn’t move. I tried to keep my voice calm and expressionless.

“And why is that?”

“Cuz ya really should hav’ jus’ talken ta me. Now, I figure, cuz ya didn’ wanna do tha’, you gotta come home with me.” he said grabbing my hand.

“Don’t touch me.” I said but his hand stayed where it was, so I twisted it round and pulled my hand free.

“Ah, girly, now you gone and made me unhappy, mad even.”

“Oh, no. Now you’ve gone and done it, you had to open your mouth! You have to go. NOW. RUN!” Said the ever unhelpful voice in my head.

This time my feet seemed to obey, I turned and I ran.


I don’t remember much else after that, just the vague images of trees and street lights as I ran as fast as I could across the road and into the park opposite. I remember hearing his heavy thudding foots steps sprinting towards me. I remember wondering how long I could keep this up, how long I would be able to out run him. I remember thinking about where to run to, where I could get away from him. I didn’t know where I should go.

But that was before I saw my car.


The rest was just a blur of motion.

Me, slamming into the car and looking back over my shoulder to see James vaulting over a bench on the other side of the car park.

Shoving my keys into the lock on the door, opening it and diving into it just as he reached my car.

I tried, in vain, to shut the door but he managed to grab it.

He forced his way into the car, I kicked his face, so he grabbed my foot and forced it down onto the car seat.

I can remember screaming in my head, “NO! LET GO OF ME!” but I don’t remember panicking. At least not when I found my clay knife.


After that all I remember is sitting on top of his carcass his eyes staring blankly at the roof of the car, his throat slashed, and blood covering me and the interior of the car.

I looked at my knife, which I had managed to stab into the side of his neck. I yanked it out.

I looked around the inside of my car.

“Oh SHIT!” I muttered under my breath.

I sighed and shook my head. “James, James, James! Look what you made me do! I told you not to touch me.”

I sighed again as I got off his chest.

I didn’t know what to do with the body, so I went to the place I know best.

The lake in the forest.

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